


Zugzwang

by Roehrborn



Series: The Mayor, The Chief of Staff, and The Detective [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, Multi, Murder Mystery, Ominous Foreshadowing that Remains Unresolved, Polyamory, Season/Series 03, Snark, grey morality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roehrborn/pseuds/Roehrborn
Summary: The mayor’s banquet takes a grim turn when a Gotham socialite is murdered.  Jim is forced to make a choice.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic taken longer than I hoped, and I’m not sure how I feel about chapter one! I’m not sure how many chapters this’ll end up being, but uh… I guess we’ll see? And since it’s multichapter, know that there will be smut. Just... later.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!  
> ~R
> 
> Zugzwang (noun) - (in chess) a situation in which the obligation to make a move in one's turn is a serious, often decisive, disadvantage.

_Previously:_   
_“I need -- time,” Jim bites out, staring into Ed’s eyes, willing him to understand._

_Ed reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and retrieves a little RSVP card. “This is the invitation to the banquet,” Ed says. “I’m sure Oswald would love to see you there. But that’s all the more time you’re going to get. You’ll need your answer ready.” He holds the invitation out to Jim, who takes it._

_Ed walks from the room with quick strides, and flips the lightswitch as he leaves._

_Jim sits alone in the dark room, and thinks._

~

Detective Jim Gordon meets his eye in the mirror, a crease to his brow and a worried frown on his lips. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, straightening his shoulders. From his first day here, in Gotham, he has had his morals tested and twisted. While trying to follow his sense of ethics, he has been forced to make compromises for the greater good.

There is something about this city, Jim thinks.

Jim had thought that he would remain unaffected by Gotham’s grey morality. What feels like a lifetime ago, he’d thought that he would be the person who wouldn’t succumb. Ironically, his first stand against the corruption of Gotham has been, and will always be, his undoing. And yet, given the choice, Jim would still choose to spare Oswald’s life on those docks.

And tonight, he is taking another step onto the shadowed path. But as Oswald had once told him, better to walk with a friend. Or two.

Sighing sharply, he flicks the lightswitch and leaves his apartment, locking the door decisively behind him.

~

The banquet is being held in a large retrofitted building downtown. It had once been a library, if Jim is remembering correctly. It’s towering, it’s Gothic, and it all but _screams_ “Oswald Cobblepot”.

Jim hands his car keys off to the valet, tugging at the bottom of his suit jacket a little uneasily. He’s not usually bothered about being slightly underdressed, but he’s worried now that he’ll end up drawing too much attention as is. An elderly man in a tuxedo gives him a skeptical glance as Jim passes him on his way to the entrance, and Jim gives him a grimace back.

When he reaches the entranceway, they take his invitation and sweep him inside without a moment’s pause, and he raises his eyebrows in consternation at the crowd of extravagant Gotham elite.

The decorations are subtle and elegant, though the color scheme appears to be a striking plum, gold, and black. The lighting is yellow and set low, making the event feel more intimate and Jim has to shut his eyes and take a deep breath to steady his nerves. Luckily, a waiter passes by, then, and Jim plucks a champagne flute from the tray and takes a sip to busy himself.

He tries to look around the room subtly, but he doesn’t catch sight of either Ed or Oswald, and he scowls as a few of the painted peacocks turn his way and keep turning, civilly aloof. Where the hell are they? He didn’t come here to make nice with a bunch of these high society people. He came here to see Ed and Oswald, to tell them that … he’s ready. For something more.

He feels a weird swooping sensation in his gut at the thought. He’s here to see _them_. He’s made his choice.

“Detective Gordon,” says a smooth, cultured voice, and he turns on his heel to face the speaker.

The woman appears to be in her late-fifties, blonde, expression forbidding and austere. Something about her rubs Jim the wrong way, and he has to force himself to turn his automatic grimace into something approaching a polite smile. “Can I help you?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t have expected to see you here,” she says, her voice politely skeptical.

Jim’s eyes narrow, unsure what exactly she means by that comment. “Well… here I am,” he says finally, lifting his glass of champagne to her in acknowledgement.

“You are aware, of course…” She watches him, and he may be biased, but her eyes seem cold and dead, like a fish’s. “No, how silly of me. Of course you are.”

He grits his teeth, but his detective’s instinct compels him to ask: “Aware of what?”

Her gaze narrows in on him, consideringly. “Of the rather dubious history of our dear mayor and his chief of staff.”

His lip twitches, and he shifts on his feet. In retrospect, he’s not sure what he was expecting. “They’ve been cleared of wrongdoing,” he says, the words tasting a bit sour in his mouth.

She raises her eyebrows, expression edging on actually astonished. “Well. Detective Gordon. That’s not the answer I expected of a man with your … _history_.”

“First time for everything,” Jim says dismissively, and takes a sip of the champagne to shut himself up.

Her lips twitch into a smile, but not a happy one. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. Proximity to Oswald Cobblepot tends to have that effect.”

He’s not sure why, but he’s struck with a sudden sense of _wrongness_ \- his eyes flit to her judgmental brow, the displeased twist of her lips, and the look in her eyes, flat and _knowing_.

“What did you say your name was?” he asks, taking a step toward her.

“Kathryn,” she tells him. And then she turns away. “Have a good evening, Mr. Gordon.”

He watches her go, suddenly feeling a bit ill. He sets his champagne flute down on a nearby table and stalks off down the closest hallway, determined to find Oswald or Ed _now_.

~

Jim’s been wandering down a hallway for what feels like an endless few minutes when he hears a familiar voice, speaking in an odd lilting cadence. Like a monologue. He dips inside the door, not surprised to find Oswald pacing the length of what looks like a study, muttering what sounds like a recitation of his speech under his breath.

It’s breathtaking, in a way, how suddenly familiar this seems. How _right_ it feels to stand by the doorway with a fond smile on his face, watching Oswald pace nervously, almost frantically. Jim hides a smile behind his hand before straightening and clearing his throat.

Oswald whirls around on his heel, expression startled and almost wild for a moment. “Jim?” he says, the word leaping from his lips like a gasp.

Jim smiles, a little sheepishly. “Hi.”

The mayor continues to stare at him for a half a moment, then his lips spread into a smile, warm and pleased and welcoming. “You came.”

“I did,” Jim says, feeling an awkward fluttering of nerves. “Did Ed tell you he’d..?”

“Yes,” Oswald answers hastily. “He did.” He takes a few steps toward Jim, before halting again, hand fluttering by his side before coming to rest on the arm of the lounge next to him. “And you’re..?” he asks, voice faltering.

Jim takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes briefly. “Yes,” he says, as firmly as he can manage. When he opens his eyes, it’s to see Oswald’s dazzling smile, and he blinks. “But I want to clarify a few things first.”

“Of course!” Oswald says, eagerly. He takes a few steps forward, still remaining slightly out of Jim’s arm length.

“Just -- you can’t ask me to do things for you. I mean. I’m not going to be your man inside the GCPD,” Jim explains haltingly. “If this,” he says, gesturing vaguely around them, “is going to be a thing, it has to be _separate_ from our … careers,” he ends dubiously.

“Jim,” Oswald says, a little facetiously. “I want to remind you that there are some occasions during which we have worked very effectively together in the past. And Ed, I imagine, even more so.”

“Yes,” Jim agrees. “And we can cross that bridge when we come to it. If the city’s at stake, of course we can work together -- it would be absurd not to. But I need you to understand,” he says, taking a few steps toward Oswald, “that I can’t be a pawn to you. If I have to be constantly on guard of you trying to screw me over, I’ll never be able to commit to this.”

Oswald bites his lip. “That’s reasonable,” he says after a pause. “Although, in that same vein, Jim, you will have to _trust_ us to not always tell you the full truth. If you suspect we are lying to you, it will probably be for your own good.”

Jim grimaces. “And that will take time,” he admits. “It’s not going to be easy for me, Oswald. But…” he reaches out to grasp Oswald’s closest hand in his, “I’m _here_ , Oswald, and I’m planning on making this work.”

Oswald smiles up at him, eyes a little too bright. Jim finds himself mirroring the smile, a little apprehensively, and then Oswald is reaching up with his free hand to grasp Jim’s lapel and tug his face down.

For once Oswald’s mouth doesn’t taste like wine; he tastes like spearmint, sharp and fresh and focused, his tongue pressing for entrance against Jim’s lips. Jim lets him in, giving in briefly to the wild force that is Oswald Cobblepot. Oswald’s hand tightens on his lapel, and Jim in turn squeezes Oswald’s other hand.

Finally Oswald breaks the kiss, tipping his head downward in an attempt to hide the blush on his cheeks. Jim can see it clearly, though, the faint pink easily visible on his fair skin.

Oswald blinks, lashes fluttering, and then looks up to meet Jim’s eyes. “We should really go get Ed.”

“Where is he?” Jim asks, a little frustrated. “I had to search the whole damn hallway until I found you, and I haven’t seen him _anywhere_.”

A smile breaks out on Oswald’s lips. “I believe he was talking to the event planners -- they’ve holed up in one of the back rooms. Come on, we have time.”

Oswald takes Jim’s arm in his as he sweeps from the room, and Jim lets him lead, a little laughingly. There’s still a smile playing on Oswald’s lips, and there’s a mischievous look in his eyes as he leads Jim away.

~

“Here we are,” Oswald says, and flings the door open without aplomb.

“Jesus Christ, Ed!”

“Ed, what’s happened?”

The room is fairly large and sparsely furnitured, with folding tables and chairs lined up in the middle. There are endless decoration and supplies balanced atop them, flowers and banners and the like.

And in the center of the room, crouched over a bloody corpse, is Edward Nygma.

“Hi,” Ed says, looking up from the body. His left hand is stained with blood, right resting nonchalantly on his hip. “We've encountered a complication.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jim says again, and shuts his eyes.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not pissed at Jim in canon rn, because I am. To be fair, he was under the influence of the Tetch virus. But damn it, Jim, killing Fish?? Trading Oswald?? So anyway Os & Ed are gonna give him some shit.
> 
> This fic is hard for me to write for some reason, so chapters are probably going to be 1500-2000 words each, and I’ll try to update more frequently. I’m also giving in and admitting I have no idea how many chapters it’ll be. I guess we’ll have to see!  
> ~R

“You didn't kill this woman? Despite the fact that your hand is bloody and you were alone with the body? Is that what I'm supposed to believe?”

“Yes, Jim,” Ed says impatiently. “I was going check on Miss Darcy and her staff, but I found the door ajar. And instead of our event team I found Ms. Rivera, who is a noted philanthropist and frankly, was reluctant to come,” he adds in aside to Oswald.

“Was she the one--”

“--who sent the strongly worded letter week two of your mayorship? Yes. She viewed the donation to her foundation as a bribe.”

“It wasn’t,” Oswald informs Jim. “Well, unless you count trying to win someone over as a bribe. I don’t need anything from her. Didn’t.”

Jim takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Okay,” he says. “So someone with whom you had a publicly contentious relationship shows up to your banquet reluctantly and ends up murdered.”

Ed frowns. “I admit it sounds suspicious.”

Jim turns to look at Oswald, frustrated by the response. Oswald shrugs at him. “If Ed says he didn't do it, he didn't do it,” Oswald says blithely.

Resting a hand on his hip, Jim directs a look up at the ceiling. “Okay. Supposing that’s true-”

“It is,” Ed interrupts.

“- _supposing_ that’s true, we need to call off the banquet and call in the GCPD. Are there any security cameras? Anything to corroborate - where were you, Ed, before you came back here?”

“There are no cameras--”

“No, we _can’t_ call it off now!” Oswald exclaims. “It’s almost time for the speech - can’t we just wait until _afterward_ to alert the authorities?”

Jim sighs, frustratedly. “Oswald, everyone at the station is already going to assume it was one or both of you. If you--”

“It was an amateur,” Ed interjects. “Take a look yourself, Jim, there’s no way Oswald or I would be that sloppy.”

“Jesus, Ed, don’t _say_ things like that,” Jim snaps. “I’m trying to be rational, here, and _that_ is not helpful. Look.” He lifts a hand to his forehead and brushes his hair back, exasperated. “If you -- if we wait until after your speech to call it in the GCPD, not only will both of you be under undue suspicion, _my_ word won’t be worth much at all.”

Oswald rolls his eyes, but his hand tightens into a fist, belying his attempt at levity. “Heaven forbid the sainted Jim Gordon be suspected of _perjury_ ,” Oswald snaps, and Jim sucks in an irritated breath.

“Oswald,” Ed says, reaching out as if to pat his arm and pulling back abruptly when he sees the blood-soaked glove. “Not that you don’t have a point, but we’ll need to rely heavily on his credibility in this case.”

“Thank you, Ed,” Jim says, exasperatedly.

“Of course, you’re perfectly willing to perjure yourself when it’s your own freedom on the line,” Ed adds, primly.

“I’m going to give my speech,” Oswald says. “This has been in the works for weeks, Jim. I won’t have this casting a shadow over the event.”

“Oswald,” Jim says, “it’s going to. There’s been a murder, for Christ’s sake.”

“It can wait until afterward.”

Jim rubs his forehead and thinks. After a heartbeat, an idea strikes him, but he already knows Oswald and Ed won’t like it. “Let’s compromise,” he says finally. “I’ll call someone in from the GCPD--”

“Jim,” Oswald tries to interrupt, but Jim talks over him:

“-- _one person_ , and we’ll begin the investigation while you do your speech, _then_ once we have some idea as to what’s going on here, we’ll call it in.”

“And who can you trust, Jim, to _not_ turn us in and go along with you whilst you conduct your investigation in secret? It’s not as if the GCPD is brimming with fans of ours,” Oswald says tartly.

He’s right, he’s definitely right, but there’s one man who would be willing to do it, if only for Jim. Ed’s eyes widen as he realizes what Jim is thinking.

“No, Jim,” Ed says, “not--”

“Yes,” Jim says firmly. “I’m calling Harvey.”

~

“Jim, you’d better have a damn good reason for calling me. I was just about to go out on the town with a very _lovely_ lady.”

“I wouldn’t be calling you if I didn’t have a good reason, Harvey.”

“What sort of trouble did you get yourself into _thissloppy_. Multiple stab wounds to non-vital centers. If Oswald or Ed had been trying to kill someone, they could have done it much more efficiently.

 _Of course_ , Jim thinks darkly, _they know that, and they both have the strength and know-how to pull off a violent, passionate crime as well._

It comes down to trust. Jim is willing to give them the benefit of the doubt for now, but if he finds anything suspicious… he _has_ to prepare himself for that eventuality.

What choice will he make, if it comes to that?

When Harvey makes it to the room, he puts his hands on his hips and surveys the scene with a dour look. “Aw, Jim, Jesus Christ. This is a freakin’ mess. Remind me why you didn’t call in the forensic folks?”

Jim tries out a smile. “Thanks, Harv. I, er, don’t want this to get out -- you know how things’ll look, and I’m pretty confident it’s not Oswald or Ed.”

Harvey turns to him and looks him up and down, dumbfounded look on his face. “You’re ‘confident’? Oh, you’re ‘confident’? I guess that’s fine then.”

Jim grimaces, stroking a hand through his hair. “You have every right to be skeptical, Harvey, believe me. Just…” he trails off, unsure how to justify himself. He gives Harvey a helpless look, and Harvey’s expression begins to transform from reluctantly sardonic to knowingly appalled.

“Oh hell no,” Harvey says, and holds up his hands when Jim tries to interrupt. “You’ve done a lot of stupid shit in your time, Jim, but I didn’t think you’d ever do something like _this_.”

This is exactly what he was afraid of. “Harvey--”

“No, Jim.” Harvey points at him. “Don’t try to lie to me. I recognize that look. It’s that same look you had over Lee. Jim...”

“I was _going_ to say…” Jim trails off, unsure what to say. “I know, Harvey.”

“Aw, Christ,” Harvey says, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell are you thinking, Jim? What made you think this was a good idea? How long have you known Penguin? And Chrissake, Jim, Nygma? Which-- oh God, I don’t want to know. Which--”

“I--” Jim covers his face with his hand. “Harvey, it’s… both.”

Harvey stares at him dumbfounded for a moment, then reaches hastily into his jacket and pulls out his flask. He takes a desperate swig, staring at Jim with disbelieving eyes.

“Jim,” he croaks. “You don’t mean--”

“Yes.”

“Oh, _God_ , I need _bleach_! That is … the _last_ image I wanted in my head,” Harvey says. “Why would you -- Jim, are they _blackmailing_ you? Blink twice if they’re holding you against your will!”

“No!”

“Shit.” Harvey takes another swig from his flask and grimaces, expressively. “How long has this been going on?”

“Just a couple of weeks.” Jim frowns and rubs a hand over his chin. “Three. Three weeks.”

“Th--” Harvey looks away and back, rapidly. “ _Three weeks_? Jim! Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“What did you want me to say, Harvey? I thought it was just gonna… I didn’t think… look, Harvey, I didn’t think you’d want to know.”

“So, you didn’t think it was pertinent? They’re still criminals, you know!”

“They’ve been cleared…” Jim trails off, half-heartedly. He can’t say it, not to Harvey. He gives a helpless shrug. “Harvey, they’re not… they are trying to _help_ Gotham. Not… not the way we are. But…”

Harvey shakes his head, taking another deep sip from his flask. “I get it, Jim. You’ve lost you’re fucking marbles. Okay.” 

“Seriously, Harv, they’re really good--”

“Christ, you’re right, I _don’t_ want to know.”

“That’s not what I was going to say!”

“Just show me what you got on the body, Jim. The sooner we solve this, the sooner I can drink myself into a coma.”


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I’m sorry you guys, but I haven’t been feeling this one. :[ I am going to complete it, so I’m focusing on it now, and sorry for the wait!! Smut is coming in Chapter five. ;) Hope you enjoy!  
> ~R

Harvey still won’t look directly at Jim; every time he does, he sighs heavily and glances down at his flask, as if sorely tempted to chug it.

Jim is digging through the victim’s pockets, trying to treat this as just another case -- but the frequent sighs from Harvey’s direction are making it difficult. He screws his mouth into a regretful scowl and then blinks, startled, and forgets himself as he retrieves a little slip of paper from the victim’s pocket.

“Coat check,” Harvey says immediately when he holds it up. “They tried to take my hat.”

Jim glances up and sees a familiar intrigued-despite-himself look on Harvey’s face; he grins. Harvey rolls his eyes in response. “Well, you’re not gonna listen if I told you they did it, are you?”

“Nope,” Jim says, rising to his feet. “Look,” he adds as he steps closer to Harvey, “I’m not discounting it. But you’ve gotta admit, it’d be pretty stupid on their part.”

“Yeah, well Ed’s always struck me as a so-smart-he’s-stupid kinda guy. And you _know_ what I think of the Penguin.”

“Yeah,” Jim mutters, then continues: “but that won’t get us anywhere. As soon as we call it in, all investigative eyes will be on them. So let’s do some real detective work and skip the conclusions.”

“What is it with you and your obsession with real detective work?” Harvey asks. “I didn’t raise you to be this way.”

“Hilarious, Harv,” Jim deadpans. “You think we might find anything in her coat? Maybe a phone?”

“Worth checking,” Harvey agrees. “C’mon, and don’t forget to lock the door behind you.”

~

“Hey,” Jim says. He holds up the receipt, and the assistant gives him a disdainful look before retrieving it with delicate, disapproving fingers. The assistant glances down at the receipt and disappears in a wave of sickly-sweet perfume.

“Yeah, Jim, this is _really_ your crowd. I _really_ see you fitting in, here,” Harvey says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Thanks,” Jim says, “but I wasn’t exactly dying to come here. It’s just -- you know --”

“Yeah, I _know_ \--”

An obnoxiously cleared throat, and the assistant has returned, holding a women’s coat: wool and faux fur. Jim smiles uncomfortably as he reaches for it, and the assistant doesn’t hold it out, waiting for Jim to awkwardly reach over the counter and retrieve it.

“Thanks,” Jim says half-heartedly, and as one he and Harvey turn back toward the lobby.

Oswald’s speech must be in full swing because the entranceway is deserted. Sure enough, if Jim strains his ears he can hear the familiar odd tonal quality of Oswald’s voice amplified by a microphone, though the words are indistinct. He doesn’t realize his mind is drifting until Harvey jostles him, frustratedly, and reaches for the coat.

Jim relinquishes it without any fight, and Harvey brusquely digs through the pockets, laying out the findings on a wooden bench along the entranceway.

A lipstick tube, a packet of tissues, a bracelet that looks like it cost as much as Jim’s yearly salary, a scrap of paper, and hand lotion.

“No phone,” Harvey points out. “Ten-to-one the murderer has it.”

Jim’s gaze darts around the room. It’s empty, but: “Keep your voice down,” Jim hisses. “There may be people listening nearby.”

Harvey rolls his eyes. “ _Fine_ , nervous nellie.”

Jim picks up the scrap of paper and unfolds it, finding what looks like part of a brochure written on in Sharpie. “Okay, Harv, I think we’ve got something here--”

“Yeah? What’s that say?’

“‘Ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime,’” Jim reads, voice dubious. “‘They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed--’” He narrows his eyes. “It cuts off, and then: ‘Attend the banquet and meet me in the second story women’s bathroom directly after the speech if you want to know more.’”

“Looks like our philanthropist had some interesting connections.”

“Why would they want to meet her _here_?” Jim asks, almost rhetorically. “They could talk _about_ them anywhere -- why right under their noses?”

Harvey shrugs. “Maybe they thought it was the last place they’d look? Maybe they really hate mingling with the pro-crazy criminal crowd? Or…”

Jim glances over at Harvey, curious. “Or?”

Harvey gives him a pointed look. “Or … they’re on your pals’ side, and they were luring her to her death.”

Jim scowls. “Or they didn’t want Oswald and Ed to suspect her, so they wanted her to make an appearance here.” He shifts on his feet, dropping his hands to his hips, and Harvey huffs a sigh at him.

“I’m just saying-- we don’t know if the letter-writer was telling the truth, _especially_ since she’s dead.”

Jim lifts one hand up to rub at his temple, scowling reluctantly. “You may be right, Harv.” He glances back down at the note, his eyes darting over the scrawled handwriting. “No signature --” A thought strikes him, and he looks back up to meet Harvey’s eyes. “Do you think one of them would recognize the writing?”

“Jim--”

Jim holds up a hand. “Or maybe they ordered it done. Either way, you’ll be able to tell if they’re lying, right?”

Harvey gives him a look, holding up a finger as if to hush him. “I think that no matter _what_ I say, you’re going to bring it to them.”

Jim grins. “Right. C’mon, Harv, let’s see if the speech is finished.”

~

When they enter back into the main hall, Oswald has stepped down from the stage and he and Ed are shaking hands and exchanging words with a line of attendees. Jim feels an odd flicker of disappointment at having missed the entirety of the speech, but there will probably be many more in the future.

Which… he would be a part of.

“Jesus, Jim, get that look off your face before I call in to Arkham,” Harvey mutters, gripping Jim by the elbow and dragging him forward through the crowd. “I’m pretty sure what _you’re_ doing is a committable offense.”

“Not criminal,” Jim points out, cheekily, and Harvey gives him an unimpressed look.

“Jim, there’s a joke I can make, here, and I _really_ don’t want to, so as a favor to me--”

“ _Christ_ , Harvey--”

“You got the note, yeah? Let’s join the line--”

“Yeah,” Jim says, but he’s distracted as Ed glances up and catches his eyes, his expression brightening visibly, even across the distance.

“Gouge my eyes out,” Harvey mutters disconsolately, but Jim ignores him.

~

As soon as they are ensconced in a small room off the banquet hall, Jim passes the note over to Ed, who snatches it eagerly. Ed’s gaze darts over the note, eyes narrowed and contemplative. As Jim watches, his nostrils flare, before he passes the note on to Oswald. Oswald is a little more reserved in his perusal, lips sealed in a displeased moue. “What flies when it’s born, lies when it’s alive, and runs when it’s dead?” Ed says, crisply.

“What?” Harvey demands, voice already frustrated.

Jim furrows his brow, working over the problem slowly. Oswald just reaches out with one absentminded hand to pat Ed’s forearm. “A snowflake,” Jim says after a moment.

Ed snaps his fingers, pointing at Jim delightedly. “Bingo! Each two snowflakes are unique.”

“So?” Harvey asks.

“So is each set of handwriting. The first two sentences and the last are written in two distinct hands,” Ed elaborates. He peers over Oswald’s shoulder as Oswald eyes the note, brow furrowed. “The first two are also metaphorical in tone, and the third a concrete set of instructions--”

“Where have I heard that turn of phrase?” Oswald mutters, as if to himself.

“Which?” Jim asks curiously.

“From a shadow perch,” Oswald says, voice pensive. “I’ve _heard_ that.”

“Your mother?” Ed asks, voice softening in tone.

“Perhaps.” Oswald straightens abruptly, as if remembering himself, and squares his shoulders. “So that’s it?” he asks briskly, voice neither condemning nor encouraging.

“Ah -- we could compare the writing to the guest sign in,” Ed suggests casually.

“There’s a -- there’s a _guest sign in_?” Harvey demands. “You didn’t think that’d be useful to know?”

“Well you didn’t have a _handwriting_ sample before,” Ed tells him, eyes narrowed. “Now you do, so I told you about the sign in. What about this is so difficult to understand, Detective Bullock?”

“Is this how all investigations are conducted?” Oswald asks sotto voce. “I’m losing faith in the GCPD by the minute.”

“Fucking hell,” Harvey blurts out. “We caught _you two_ , didn’t we?”

Jim feels a wave of chagrin as they turn to face Harvey as one. Ed’s face is scrunched in familiar irritation, and Oswald wears a half-condescending, half-angry smirk.

“Well, look at me now,” Oswald says sharply, spreading his arms wide. “ _Mayor_ Cobblepot. _Very_ effective work, gentlemen, unparalleled.”

“Well you are ‘reformed’, aren’t you?” Harvey asks, and Jim drops his head into his hands.

“Anyway, I turned _myself_ in,” Oswald continues, as if Harvey hadn’t said anything, “and Ed was at a disadvantage. I think he did rather well for himself in the lion’s den.”

Harvey takes in a breath to respond, but before he can Ed interrupts.

“I thought we were trying to catch a murderer, Detective Bullock,” Ed says, “but by all means, continue to antagonize the man who allocates your quarterly budget.”

Harvey opens his mouth to respond and Jim knows he has to intervene _now_ before things get any worse. “Everybody, slow down,” he says quickly. “You ran on a platform of safety and security,” Jim says to Oswald. “Didn’t you? It’ll look bad, especially here in Gotham, to reduce the budget. Harv--” Harvey looks at him, dumbfounded. “--please … be nice,” Jim concludes, dubiously.

“Like hell,” Harvey says faintly, to himself.

“Now let’s take a look at the guest sign in,” Jim says, and Ed grins at him, perkily.

“I’ll go get it,” Ed says, and darts out of the room.

~

Ed and Oswald crowd over the little booklet, Ed flipping the pages rapidly. Oswald finally darts a hand out, pointing out a scrawled signature in the booklet. Ed retrieves the note and together they confirm they comparison.

“It’s the second sentence,” Ed tells Jim as he hands the guest book over. “And that’s our suspect -- the first part could be entirely unrelated, but we can check later.”

“I know who that is,” Oswald says grimly.

“Yes, it’s--” Ed says, blinking forcefully. “Oh dear.”

“What’s the problem?” Harvey asks brusquely as he reads the name over Jim’s shoulder.

“We’re being purposefully framed,” Oswald elaborates. “Though they _obviously_ didn’t expect _you_ to be here,” he adds, glancing up at Jim with an unreadable look.

Jim feels a flicker of some sort of undefinable emotion in his chest at Oswald’s look, and he offers up furrowed brows and a sad smile.

“Get a room,” Harvey mutters to himself.

“It would be more efficient for you to vacate this one,” Ed suggests, and Harvey looks up at him, horrified.

“We’re solving a murder,” Jim interrupts pointedly. “That’s -- that’s what we’re doing. Let’s stay on track. Where can we find this person?”

“I think our best bet is the women’s restroom on the second floor,” Ed says primly.

“Sure,” Harvey says, voice dubious, “we’ll fit _right_ in.”


	4. Four

The hallway by the women’s restroom is deserted; most of the guests are still downstairs mingling. Oswald strides toward the door and is only stopped by Ed’s hand on his shoulder. He turns, giving Ed a quizzical up-and-down look.

“This man wants to implicate _us_ ,” Ed says. “So perhaps we should be out of sight?”

Oswald twists his lip. “Will that _help_ anything? We’re trying to find the _actual_ murderer.”

“Well if we catch him in a lie, that’ll go some ways toward proving your innocence,” Jim tells him. “It’s a common tactic to keep suspects in the dark.”

Oswald scowls, a look of frustration crossing his face. “No offense, Jim, but I prefer my own methodology in situations like this.”

“And what’s that?” Harvey demands pointedly. “What was that, Mr. Mayor?”

“Confronting the accuser face-to-face, of course,” Ed says smoothly. “But in this case, Oswald, I really do think it’s better to defer to official procedure.”

“Yeah, only official procedure doesn’t usually involve two suspects eavesdropping on the questioning,” Harvey says pointedly. Ed takes Oswald’s arm in his and begins pacing the hallway, eyes darting around for a convenient hiding place.

“To be fair, Harvey,” Jim says, “it does happen. In Gotham.”

Harvey throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly.

There’s a small closet several paces down the hall, and Edward points to it indicatively. Jim gives him a nod, and the two of them ensconce themselves inside. “Wait for my signal,” he calls over to them, and Ed gives him a thumbs-up before pulling the door shut.

“Do we go in?” Harvey asks.

Jim shrugs. “She’s already several minutes late, so--”

The bathroom door bursts open and a man darts out, glancing left and right before looking ahead and blanching at the sight of Harvey and Jim standing elbow-to-elbow, arms crossed.

“Hey, buddy,” Harvey says. “Whatcha up to?”

“I-- sorry, I couldn’t find the men’s restroom--”

“Yeah, we don’t care about that,” Harvey tells him. “We’re most interested in secret meetings about this party’s hosts than anything else.”

“Oh-” the man says. “Shit.”

“Yep,” Jim says. “Not a fan?”

“It, uh, yeah,” he says, eyes darting to the hallway over Jim’s shoulder. “I mean, everyone knows they were in Arkham.”

“Yeah,” Harvey says, throwing Jim a significant look. “And everyone knows they’ve been _cleared_ , too,” he continues, voice _just_ sarcastic enough for Jim to hear.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” he asks, and Jim sighs heavily.

“Look, I --” he glances down the hallway again. “I had these documents to pass on to her. Financial documents.”

Jim holds his hand out pointedly, staring into the man’s eyes. He swallows nervously and then reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sheaf of papers rolled and held in a rubber band. “I--” he begins, but before he can speak Jim reaches out and takes the papers from his hands.

“Where did you get them?” Harvey pursues, as Jim peels off the rubber band and unrolls the pages. “You didn’t _work_ for them, did you?”

“No, I--” the man looks to the ground, then back up. “Someone passed them on to me.”

“Who?” Harvey asks.

“These are just bank statements,” Jim says. “I mean, it’s no secret that Oswald inherited a fortune. I don’t see anything illicit.”

“I don’t know, I’m just passing it on,” the man insists.

“So _how_ did you get confidential bank statements?” Jim asks.

The man looks back and forth between Harvey and Jim, finding two unsympathetic faces. “Look, okay,” he says. “Why did she tell you to meet me here? Did she think I was gonna do something? All I wanted to do was pass this on. _I_ didn’t get the info, I don’t know who did.”

Harvey and Jim glance at each other, assessing, and then Harvey looks back at the man and says: “She’s dead.”

“Wh-what?”

“She was murdered,” Jim adds.

“How--?”

“So we’re doing a little investigating,” Harvey says, a little facetiously. “Just asking around about any, you know, mysterious meetings she may have been lined up for.”

“Shit,” the man says. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“What _did_ you sign up for?” Jim asks.

“Okay,” he says, “okay.” He takes a deep breath, lifting his hand to his face and giving out a shaky sigh. “I was sent a letter, I don’t know from who, and they offered to me some information to help discredit the mayor. It’s no secret that I’m not a fan, so of course I accepted. I figured Ms. Villalobos would know what to do with it - she has a background in finance.”

He looks between Jim and Harvey, expression a little desperate. “I swear I’m telling the truth. I’m not a fan of the mayor, but I’m not a _murderer_.”

Harvey shoots Jim a look, and Jim suppresses a grimace. “Well _someone_ killed her,” Jim says finally. “Did anyone else know she was meeting you?”

“Not that I know of-- unless…” the man frowns a little. “Unless the mayor found out.”

Harvey continues to look at Jim. “Is that right?”

“Well he wouldn’t want me to pass it on, would he?”

“And you’ve literally _told_ us that you were trying to get his name smeared,” Jim points out. “So why should we believe _you_?”

“I’m not a criminal!” the man insists.

“Do you still have the letter you were sent?” Jim demands. “So we can verify your story?”

“I don’t have it _with_ me,” he says.

“Convenient,” Harvey says.

“Look,” the man insists, holding his hands up. “It wasn’t signed with a name, but it was signed ‘I am what justice works to bring’. Does that help?”

The door to the closet bangs open, and out tumble Ed and Oswald in a flurry of limbs. Ed holds his hand out to brace Oswald and turns to face the rest of them, who stand frozen, startled. Ed stares at them, his glasses suspiciously askew. “What _justice_ works to bring?” he demands. “Is that it?”

“How did you-!” the man exclaims, staring at the two of them, horrified.

“Oswald,” Ed says insistently, grasping Oswald’s sleeve. “It’s _Justice Wright_.”

“Justice Wright?”

“Justice _Wright_!” Ed repeats. “She always _was_ too helpful.”

“Rights,” Jim says, bringing his hand up to his forehead.

“Yes,” Ed says emphatically. “ _Rights_.”

“Cretin,” Oswald spits to the hapless man, still boxed in by the bathroom door.

“What?” Harvey asks, but Jim is already turning, racing to the stairwell at the end of the hall.

~

Justice Wright is not difficult to find. She’s standing by the edge of the still-mingling crowd, glass of champagne in hand, and as Jim approaches she glances up at him, seeming neither alarmed nor surprised.

“Detective Gordon,” she greets as he enters earshot. “I didn’t know you were attending tonight.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” he mutters under his breath, but at her quizzical look, he forces a smile. “Circumstances,” he says, “called for it.”

“Oh?” he asks, and _yeah_ , she’s definitely too intrigued by that.

“Unfortunate circumstances,” he elaborates, and her eyebrows rise.

“Is that really something you should be sharing with me?”

“I think I need to,” Jim says, and he watches her eyes flicker over his shoulder and narrow, suspiciously and angrily. He doesn’t need to glance behind himself to know that Ed has caught up with him.

“You don’t--” she says, and then breaks off abruptly. “It _is_ true, then,” she says, voice dark, and her expression is transforming.

Jim narrows his eyes. “ _What’s_ true?” he asks, and she leans in with a cruel grimace on her face.

“Your dubious virtue has been _compromised_ , Detective Gordon,” she tells him. “The people are _noticing_.”

Jim feels a cold wash of guilt pass over him, because… it’s _true_ , isn’t it? The fact that Oswald and Ed are innocent _this time_ doesn’t mean they will be _next time_ , and he can’t afford to always give them the benefit of the doubt. He swallows, clenching his hand into a fist, and she’s smirking at him triumphantly.

“Hey, what good’s virtue, anyway,” a familiar drawled voice says by his elbow. “Never did me any damn good.”

Jim tilts his head fractionally -- Harvey is stood beside him, arms folded across his chest. Oswald and Ed are standing behind him, eyes attentive and observant but distant.

“‘Fact, I think _you’ve_ got some problems with it, yourself,” Harvey continues. “After all, virtuous people don’t usually commit murder.”

Jim straightens, bolstered by Harvey’s support, and widens his stance slightly. Justice Wright opens her mouth, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them, and as she realizes she has no real chance of defending herself, her expression transforms into a desperately dark one.

“Working with _those_ sociopaths?” she snarls, gesturing toward Oswald and Ed who are still standing behind them, quietly attentive. “What was I _supposed_ to do?”

“Well you didn’t have to kill an innocent woman. You could have killed _them_ ,” Harvey says.

“Hey,” Ed mutters under his breath.

“It’s about _more_ than that,” she insists, voice going reedy. “It’s this whole _city_. Corruption from all tiers of society -- a criminal as mayor!”

“ _Reformed_ criminal,” Oswald says emphatically, holding up a hand.

“Well, I’ve heard enough,” Harvey says. “Jim?”

“Be my guest,” Jim tells him.

Harvey takes out his cuffs and steps behind her. There’s a hushed noise of astonishment from the crowd that still stands and watches them attentively.

“You’ll see! Their time is coming to an end!” Justice Wright snarls as Harvey cuffs her.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Oswald says snidely.

Jim sees a blonde updo out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns to search out the face, there’s no one there.

~

“I guess I’ll take her to the station?” Harvey says, looking Jim up and down with more judgment than perhaps is necessary.

Or maybe _less_ judgment than necessary, really.

“Yeah,” Jim says. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harvey says. “You _know_ I still think you’re nuts, right?”

Jim looks over at Oswald and Ed, who stand shoulder to shoulder, shaking hands with the last of the guests, sending them on their way with veiled smiles and smug superiority.

“Yeah,” Jim says. “I know.”


	5. Five

Jim doesn’t really realize just how far things have gotten once again until _after_ the limo ride to Oswald’s manor, until _after_ the housekeeper has been dismissed and Ed has dragged him (not that he’s _unwilling_ ) to the master bedroom.

They both attack him with their customary fervor, undressing him rapidly, and he submits to their attentions with a sort of amused resignation. Eventually when he’s undressed Edward tips him over and onto the bed as the other two continue to undress each other. Jim leans back and watches, still feeling somewhat out-of-place as he sees their absolute familiarity with each other, the confidence of their movements. But then Ed sends him a sly smile over Oswald’s shoulder before dropping to his knees before Oswald, stroking his hands down Oswald’s legs even as he strips him from his trousers and underwear.

Oswald smiles down at him, and his hand comes to rest in Ed’s hair, fingers tangling with the strands. He quirks an eyebrow, and Ed grins toothily before pressing a kiss to Oswald’s hipbone and grasping Oswald’s waist in his hands.

“Good, Jim?” Oswald asks and Jim blinks, startled.

“Uh -- yes,” he says, a little overwhelmed. He clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Ed opens his mouth and licks the tip of Oswald’s cock. Jim can see Oswald’s fingers tightening in his hair, the knuckles going white, and his mouth drops open into a quiet pant. 

Ed hums in contentment, eyelids slipping closed as he teases Oswald’s arousal with his lips and tongue, running his mouth along the length of Oswald. Oswald’s cock jumps against his lips and Ed lets out a moan as he hungrily takes Oswald into his mouth.

Jim bites his lip to suppress a groan, and he finds his hand on his cock before he can even form the thought, stroking himself at the sight. Oswald gives a particularly hard tug on Ed’s hair and he lets out a quiet groan as Ed inches closer, taking Oswald even deeper into his mouth and then -- Jim thinks -- his throat. Ed’s hands grip Oswald’s waist tighter, his fingernails digging into Oswald’s skin, and Oswald tugs his Ed’s head closer until his nose and glasses are bumping into Oswald’s skin.

Oswald lets out a half groan, half sigh, and finally eases Ed’s mouth off of him, and Ed’s mouth stays open, wet and gasping, lips swollen and bright pink. Jim finds himself sliding off the edge of the bed before he’s even thinking about it, taking Ed by the shoulder and tugging him toward him. He captures Ed’s mouth and Ed nips his tongue before allowing him entrance, shuddering under Jim’s grip. Then Jim feels a hand in his hair and a chuckle from somewhere above him.

“There’s a bed for a reason,” Oswald says, amused, and Ed lets out a huff.

Jim breaks apart the kiss and looks up at Oswald dubiously. “ _You’re_ the one who started the show down here.”

Oswald tilts his head consideringly, staring at the two of them down the line of his nose. His lips are curved into a vague smirk. “As much as I’m enjoying the sight of the two of you on your knees…”

Ed clambers up and holds a hand out to Jim, helping to tug him to his feet before pushing him onto his back on the bed again. “Jim,” Ed says insistently. “Now you.”

“Now me?” Jim asks, but in lieu of an answer Ed shuffles down the bed to take Jim’s cock into his mouth.

A groan escapes him without thinking, and his head falls back against the mattress, his mouth dropping open. He feels the mattress shift underneath him and then Oswald is there, lying beside him and gazing at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Oswald’s hand comes to rest against his cheek, cold and soft, his fingers stroking Jim’s face gently. “He feels good, doesn’t he?” Oswald asks, and just then Ed seems to take him _deeper_ , sinking down on his cock, mouth hot and wet and tongue caressing him.

“Yes,” Jim breathes, and Oswald’s eyes seem to flicker over his face.

“It’s a good use for that _mouth_ of his, isn’t it?” Oswald asks, with a smirk and a slight humorous edge to his voice. Jim can feel Ed heave a sigh against him before bobbing his head up and down on Jim purposefully. Jim arches his back, staring up into Oswald’s pleased expression, and Oswald leans down to capture his lips.

Jim lets Oswald in, lets Oswald stroke his tongue against Jim’s, and the feeling sets something stirring inside of him, even as he shudders against Ed’s mouth.

Then Oswald breaks the kiss and rises up onto his knees, towering over Jim’s horizontal form. “Ed?” Oswald prompts as he moves to trade places with the other man, between Jim’s legs. He puts his hands on Ed from behind, stroking down his back as Jim watches, touch proprietary and a little chiding. “Ed,” Oswald says again, patiently.

Ed finally pulls off of him and then crawls to Oswald’s previous place, molding himself against Jim, pressing his lips to Jim’s shoulder. Oswald smiles down at him, and as he lifts his hand to his lips to wet it, Jim interjects: “I’d actually prefer--”

Oswald freezes, mouth open, fingers resting on his wet tongue. He swallows and drops his hand, leaning over Jim with a penetrating gaze. “Hmm?”

Jim suppresses a frustrated scowl. “Would you like to…” He’s not sure how to say it; it’s been years since he’d last done this. “...top?”

Oswald’s eyes widen and he looms over Jim eagerly, his hands dropping to either side of Jim’s head. “Really?” he asks impatiently, and Jim rolls his eyes a little humorously.

“Yes, Oswald,” he says, “is that strange?” Ed chuckles against his shoulder.

“I suppose not,” Oswald says, leaning down to capture Jim’s lips with his own.

Oswald’s tongue strokes Jim’s teeth and Jim feels a hand against his cock, stroking him firmly; Ed chuckles in his ear, and Jim realizes he’s the culprit. Ed’s hand jerks him slowly, insistently, as Oswald pulls away and shuffles down, slipping his fingers into his mouth.

Before too long Oswald is preparing him, his fingers slick and practiced, and Ed pants against Jim’s neck as he continues to drag his clever fingers over Jim’s arousal. And finally when he’s ready, Oswald leans over and asks in a throaty voice: “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Jim says, gravelly.

Ed squirms and releases his arousal, pressing his lips and then his tongue to Jim’s nipple, and a little thrill passes through Jim even as Oswald leans over him and presses himself to Jim’s entrance.

It’s been too long -- his breath is caught in his throat as Oswald enters him with one long, slow thrust. He feels Oswald’s hand on his abdomen, stroking faintly, as he struggles to take a breath.

“Jim?” Oswald asks throatily, and Jim can feel Ed’s hand on his waist, gripping insistently.

“Yeah?” Jim breathes out.

“Good?” Oswald asks, and Jim blinks his eyes open to meet Oswald’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Jim says again, faintly, and Oswald’s lips curl into a smirk. Ed leans down then, and presses his lips to Jim’s, his tongue entering into Jim’s mouth immediately, exploring his mouth with a kind of smug assurance.

On instinct Jim brings his hand to Ed’s chest, and drags it down, down, until he reaches the other man’s arousal, hot and hard. When he wraps his fingers around it, Ed gasps into his mouth, his fingers tightening on Jim’s waist.

And then Oswald thrusts inside him, and Jim tugs on Ed’s erection on impulse, and Ed collapses onto his side next to Jim. Ed’s head is resting on Jim’s shoulder and he lets out a hot, shaky breath against Jim’s neck. Jim tries to glance over at him as he strokes Ed again, but Ed’s eyes are squeezed shut and he’s still holding Jim’s waist in a desperate grasp.

“Lovely,” Oswald says, voice husky, and leans down to press a kiss to Jim’s lips before shifting his weight and burying his hand in Ed’s hair. Ed squirms against Jim’s side, tucking his face into Jim’s shoulder and baring his teeth in a little as Oswald tugs on his hair.

As Oswald continues to thrust, picking up a heady rhythm, Jim finds himself letting out a long moan, unable to close his mouth. Ed nips his shoulder and Jim realizes he’s loosened his grip on Ed’s cock, but as Oswald thrusts again he finds he can’t concentrate clearly enough to continue tugging on his arousal. He lets go entirely, ignoring Ed’s aggravated whine, and wraps his arm around the back of Ed’s waist, holding him to Jim’s side.

Ed thrusts against his side and Oswald thrusts inside him and all at once it’s too much: Jim comes with a shout, arching his back and nearly knocking over Oswald, who grips him with a fierce little grin, before his expression breaks, his mouth opening in an _O_ of pleasure. His eyes close, brows drawn together, tongue pink and wet, and Jim _has_ to drag him down for an open mouthed kiss, his fingers clinging to the back of Oswald’s neck, the short hairs at the nape of his neck soft against Jim’s fingers.

Oswald breaks away after a moment, panting, and stares down at him with pupils wide from still-fierce arousal. Jim can feel Oswald’s breaths warming his lips. He shuts his eyes and inhales, deeply.

“Oswald,” Ed whines against Jim’s throat, and Jim’s jolted back to reality guiltily. He’s holding Ed to his side but Ed squirms, frustrated, pressing his arousal against Jim, searching for stimulation.

“I haven’t forgotten you,” Oswald says soothingly, and he shifts his weight to reach for Ed’s cock. “You just wait so prettily, Eddie.” His smile is sharp, but fond, and his eyes are heavy-lidded as he surveys Ed’s sweat-touched skin, almost glowing pale in the room’s low lighting.

Ed opens his mouth and nips Jim’s neck, as if in general retaliation to the situation, and Jim slides his hand down Ed’s back until it rests against his rear, pushing him forward and into Oswald’s grip. Oswald smirks down at Jim, pleased, then leans down to press a kiss to Ed’s shoulder as he strokes him - Jim has a feeling he was aiming for his mouth but can’t quite reach it, even with Ed curled into Jim’s side.

Ed moans and rolls his hips as Jim and Oswald move him in tandem, and before too long Ed is shaking against him, mouth open in a gasp, and he comes with a muttered curse. Jim tilts his head to capture Ed’s lips with his own, tasting his heat and desperation, exploring his mouth with a lingering hunger.

Finally with a soft sigh, Ed relaxes against him and leans his head on Jim’s chest next to Oswald’s. Oswald smiles then, soft and sweet, and presses a chaste kiss to Ed’s lips before tucking his face into Ed’s neck and promptly going limp.

Jim’s lip twitches in amusement, and Ed lets out a little huff as he strokes his hand over Oswald’s head and then wraps it around his waist. The two of them are curled up on Jim’s chest, somewhat endearingly, and although he feels a little frustration at the fact that he can’t roll over and get comfortable, they’re warm and almost… almost adorable.

“Good night,” Ed mutters as if half asleep, and Jim strokes a hand over his head as Ed relaxes completely, quickly following Oswald. Before long, Jim, too, finds himself giving in to a curiously tranquil sleep.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.... so I decided to upload all three last chapters at once. Unfortunately, this will almost definitely be it for this series, unless I write an Oswald/Edward prequel. Sorry! Anyway, please do enjoy! And thanks for reading!  
> ~R

“Hey, Jim,” Harvey greets, not looking up from the file in his hands.

“Hey,” Jim replies. “Everything go well?”

“Yup,” Harvey says, finally snapping the file shut and sitting up in his chair. “Got a confession and everything.”

“Good,” Jim says. He glances out the office’s window, uncertainly.

He hears Harvey shift in his seat. “You want to take a look?”

He glances over, and Harvey’s holding the file out to him. Leaning over, Jim takes it and opens it, glancing over the compiled paperwork. His own name is, for the most part, left out.

“I’m gonna need your witness statement,” Harvey says after a pause. “You can look that over and write it up for me.”

“Will do,” Jim says. “So we never found out what that nursery rhyme was about?” Jim asks, flipping through the case file.

“Nah. The guy said he just found the brochure like that and hoped it’d make him harder to track. Was thinking about passing it on to Fox. But case closed, yeah?” Harvey says, and Jim looks up to meet his eyes.

“And it _wasn’t_ Oswald or Ed,” Jim agrees.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have bet on it.” Harvey shifts forward in his seat and drops his elbows onto his desk, leaning his chin on his hands. “Jim,” he says after a moment. “Seriously. If you need me to _take care of them_ , clandestine-like, I can do that for you.”

“Harv--”

“But-- Jim, but…” Harvey interrupts, and Jim breaks off, eying him over the top of the file. “You are looking better. Happier. So if that’s what it takes…” Harvey trails off, staring at him.

“You can’t bring yourself to say it, can you?” Jim says after a moment, laughing. “You can’t--”

“I _can_ ,” Harvey says emphatically. “I’m _choosing_ not to.”

“Right,” Jim says.

“Look, you take the file, make your witness statement, then pass it on to Fox, okay?” Harvey says. “Then take the damn day off. I need more time before I can look you in the face, Jim.”

“Sure,” Jim says. He snaps the file shut and begins to make his way toward the door to Harvey’s office. “Call me if you need anything,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Like I’d let you off the hook if anything was going on,” Harvey says. “I will say one thing, crime _is_ down.”

Jim stops and turns back toward Harvey with an incredulous grin on his face. “Did you just _compliment_ them, Harv?”

Harvey holds up a finger. “You have no _evidence_ , Jim.”

“Yeah, all right,” Jim says laughingly as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

~

“Detective Gordon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey, Fox,” Jim says. He holds up the file. “Got one for you. A mysterious nursery rhyme. Not sure if it’s anything important.”

“Hmm,” Fox says. “Well, I’ll take a look at it.”

Jim nods and sets the file down on his desk, and turns to go. He halts, and turns back around, brows furrowed. “Yes?” Fox asks, glancing back up at him.

“There’s… this blonde woman. Late fifties. First name Kathryn. She was at the banquet last night.”

“Yes..?” Fox asks, voice a little curious.

“Could you… get a last name? See if she’s on record for anything.”

“May I ask why?” Fox says, marking something on his notepad.

“I’m not sure,” Jim says. “Just… struck me wrong.”

Fox nods slowly, and Jim turns on his heel to finally leave. He has his hand on the doorknob when Fox calls after him.

“Jim?” Fox calls after him, and Jim pauses by the door.

“Good luck,” Fox says after a pause.

Jim stands frozen by the door for a moment, before sucking in a decisive breath. “Thanks, Fox.”

~

Ed opens the door before Jim has a chance to knock. “Jim,” he says. “You’re here.”

“I am,” Jim says uncertainly. “Got the day off.”

“Come in,” Ed says, swinging the door open wide.

Jim steps inside the now-familiar entryway, and Ed wraps his hand around his wrist and tugs him along eagerly. “We have a few things we’re working on,” Ed says. “But you’re welcome to sit with us.”

“All right,” Jim says, a little wonderingly.

~

Several hours later, they’ve retreated to the master bedroom. Ed is lying back as Oswald presses hungry kisses to his neck, and Jim just manages to shrug his shirt off of his shoulders when he’s interrupted by a familiar sound.

“No, Jim,” Ed says, preemptively, and Oswald makes a vague noise of discontent even as he sucks a hickey onto Ed’s throat.

“I’ve gotta check it,” Jim says, a little apologetically, digging through his jacket pocket for his mobile. “It might be Harvey.”

Ed lets out a long sigh and curls in toward Oswald, wrapping his legs around Oswald’s waist and clinging to his shoulders. “I don’t think we’re waiting,” he says in a little pant as Oswald thrusts against him. Jim can spot a smirk at the edge of Oswald’s lips.

“Just a sec,” Jim says, and when he finally manages to glance at his phone he furrows his brow in confusion. It’s a familiar number, but one he’s not seen in _years_.

“That’s weird,” Jim says absentmindedly, dropping his phone onto the nightstand and undoing his belt, allowing his pants to fall to the floor. He sinks onto his knees on the mattress and leans over the two who are still twined together.

“What?” Ed asks, arching up to press a kiss to the side of Jim’s neck, sounding incredibly inattentive.

“‘Was my uncle. Estranged. Haven’t heard from him in years.”

“Maybe he saw you on the news,” Oswald says distractedly.

“Yeah, maybe,” Jim says. He strokes his hand up Oswald’s side, watching him shudder under the touch, mouth open in a quiet little gasp.

“Hmm,” Ed hums absentmindedly. “Urgent?”

“He can wait,” Jim says with certainty. “He hasn’t felt a need to reach out for the past ten years; he can wait a few hours.”

“Good choice,” Oswald says huskily, and he wraps his hand around Jim’s arousal, tugging insistently, and Jim lets out a breath as a shaky sigh.

On the nightstand by the bed, the call rings over to voicemail, and Jim collapses back against the mattress, entangled with the other two men.


End file.
